


Before The Morning Comes

by houseplant8



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Ending C: The Third Way, M/M, Post-Canon, Supernatural Elements, canon-typical mentions of drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseplant8/pseuds/houseplant8
Summary: ...
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 21
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

He shouldn't have come. He knew it was a fucking bad idea.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Trevor stormed out of De Santas’ house without bothering to close the door behind him.

All their disgusting faces. Assholes, all of them. He should go back and shoot a bullet into each of them.

“Trevor!” Michael's voice came from behind. “You're just going to _leave?_ ” You could hear a blink of desperation in his tone. The man of the house was standing at the porch under the dark empty sky, not entirely sure what to do. But the smaller the figure in front of De Santa became, the stronger he felt the pulling force that finally made him take a step forward. 

Gathering all his will in a fist, Trevor continued to walk towards badly parked Bodhi.

“Hey, T!” Michael practically ran to Trevor. ”Can you stop...!”

Michael grabbed him roughly by the arm, forcing him to turn and flash a furious look.

“You'd better remove your fucking hand if you don't want to lose it."

"What got into you?” Michael ignored his best friend's threat.

“Me?!” Trevor used all his resentment and anger to escape from Michael’s grasp. He started shaking inside. Tears treacherously rose in his eyes. Emotions literally choked him, forcing him to vomit out every word. “I heard _everything_ , you fucking asshole!”

Michael looked at him with confused and frightened eyes.

“It's over. I’m done. _We_ are done.”

Without waiting to hear his fucking excuses and lies, Trevor looked away from those blue eyes and goes straight to the car.

He just needs to get out of here.

Trevor sat on the front seat, loudly slamming the door not even trying to hide his anger. Without a second glance, he put his foot on the gas and drove off leaving the echoing sound of the wheels to a silent night. 

"FU-CK!" Trevor screamed at the top of his lungs. His voice was covered by the wind. He was already out of town so the night road was empty. Driving fast, not caring if he would crash and die.

He just wanted his brain to shut off. To stop feeling those sharp gutting emotions. And those dry fucking tears on his cheeks like a mocking reminder. His manic gaze catches the light of a lonely store in the distance.

_Perfect_. Exactly what he needed.

\---

Trevor was sitting on the back of the Bodhi by the cliff. Listening to the waves. Holding an almost empty bottle of whisky with his bloody hand. Drinking his sorrow away. 

His nice outfit for the _occasion_ was ruined. Now, creamy pastel pants and a white short-sleeved shirt, just like his arms were sprayed with blood of a poor man who just happened to be the first living thing caught in the murderous mood of Trevor Philips.

He looked at the horizon. This was the same place where Franklin, Michael and Trevor dumped the car with that fucker Devin Weston inside. That day, Trevor was watching a beautiful sunset that painted in his mind a reminder: the beginning of a new chapter in his life. A New Dawn, you might say, huh? _Bullshit_. All of it. He was just falling into the same trap again and again. Desperate to grab at least a grain of happiness. But he didn't deserve it. His poor beautiful flower of a mother was right. She was always right. 

_Stupid little Trevor…_

He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. The feeling of emptiness once again was replaced by suffocating anger. Trevor drank the whisky to the last drop just to numb the tightness in his throat and his heart.

Nothing was stopping his loose mind to go back to his thoughts about Michael. _Michael, Michael, Michael..._

_It’s not your fault. It’s all because of him._

His phone buzzed.

_Michael: Don't do anything stupid._

"I'll show you stupid, you piece of lying fucking snake shit!"

Trevor walked to the cliff, body swaying a little, and threw his phone into the ocean without a second thought. The sound of another text message was forever buried at the bottom of the cliff. 

"HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY, MICHAEL FAKE TOWNLEY!" 

He remembered the gift in his left pocket. Still filled with rage, Trevor grabbed the little blue box and gave it the same fate as his phone.

It slowly started to rain. Cold drops on his skin felt like needles. He was shaking again, but not from the cold. Trevor yelled, feeling like nails tore the skin on his palms apart. It mixed with a sore throat and pulsating pain in his head. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to jump and let the ocean swallow him whole. Let the water fill his lungs with burning pain. Even before death, he would be thinking about _him_.

But Trevor was a coward. _A useless fucking coward._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to my friend [aintgonnaleaveyoumikey](/users/aintgonnaleaveyoumikey)! I can't put into words how much I appreciate your help <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters Two and Three are ready, so this is why I upload them so quickly. After Chapter Three, it's gonna be way slower. It's my first time writing in English, so I wanna take my time to make it interesting for you guys to read. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments <3

The tickling feeling of warm sunlight woke Trevor up. Slowly he started feeling unpleasant sensations in his body that made him groan in annoyance and press a hand to his face. Unfortunately, it didn't help to hide him from reality. And that's on drinking yourself to the grave. He sat down straight which was a big mistake. Immediately he felt nauseous and almost threw up. What a nice reminder of a shitty night he remembered in pieces. 

Trevor really wished he didn’t remember it at all. 

Suddenly a flash of memory struck his mind and it made him throw a blanket to the side and get on his feet which was a second bad idea of today. The nice room of his new apartment began to spin. It really was a miracle he didn't empty his stomach on the spot. 

He leaned his right hand on the nightstand to keep himself from falling, almost knocking over a glass of water. 

_Michael…_

Trevor entered the bright living room, immediately looking at the man, sitting on a grey couch, reading a book. Words stuck in his throat. Yesterday’s suffocating feeling didn’t go anywhere, making him breathe harder. He wanted to scream, break something, make as much noise as he can like a little child who craved attention. He wanted to strangle Michael, to make him suffer. Make the whole world burn. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted Michael to take his life and make him forever belong to him in a sick twisted way. 

“Hey,” Michael’s soothing voice broke Trevor out of a spiral of chaotic thoughts. A worried look on the beautiful face. “How are you feeling? _I mean_ , horrible, I assume.” 

That is not fair. The way he just talks to him like nothing happened. Just because — _what?_ Michael _The Saint_ found his drunk ass and helped him to get home? _Oh no, no, no…_

“You’re a fucking piece of shit.” Trevor gave a nervous laugh. “You can keep living in your little world of denial, but you better keep that shit away from me, you hear me?”

Michael put his book down and stood up. Trevor was watching his every action with a burning gaze. When Michael started to move towards him, Trevor tensed up. 

“I swear to God, Michael, if you won’t leave, I will fucking kill you _and_ your fucking whore!” 

Michael closed the distance between them as if not hearing any of Trevor's words. He felt claustrophobic and exposed, only now aware of his nudity. Trevor hated to feel this vulnerable. It was like all the strength and will left his soul. He hadn’t felt this tired in a very long time.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered like it was a secret only for two of them. He gently cupped his cheeks and left a kiss on Trevor's forehead. “I didn’t mean it…” 

Trevor kept looking at him with wide eyes. He couldn't fully grasp what was going on with Michael and why he was acting not like himself. His intoxicated brain felt foggy like it's all just a dream or he had gone fully crazy or died at that damn cliff. 

When Trevor looked slightly down, he narrowed his dark eyebrows and touched a necklace resting on the man's chest with his finger.

"How did you..."

Trevor was sure Michael’s birthday gift was supposed to be somewhere beneath the waves. How _the fuck_ did he find it? There was no way. He was fucking losing it… When he returned his hazel eyes to Michael's, his whole body convulsed and he jumped back. 

Trevor's heart was beating like crazy. As if a hummingbird was stuck in his ribcage. Because the moment their eyes met, familiar blue calming eyes suddenly changed to something monstrous. Trevor couldn't believe that he was looking at literal snake eyes. 

“ _WHAT THE FUCK!_ ” His voice finally came back to him, when Michael followed him into the room. Back of his legs hit the bed and he fell right on the white sheets with his naked ass. 

_No, no, no. This is not Michael._

“Listen, I know how it may seem to you…” Started _whatever the fuck_ this _thing_ was. It raised its hands like it meant no harm, but Trevor was still scared. “I just want to be honest with you, okay?” 

Trevor couldn't believe it was happening to him. He was going to be killed by a lizard person — and the worst part was that Ron would be right about the crazy shit Trevor made fun of.

Fake Michael De Santa got down on his knees and looked up with a gentle smile. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“Hard to believe when you’re wearing Michael Townley’s skin.” Trevor said through a heavy breath. His body was leaned back, trying to distance himself as much as it was possible while holding on to sheets with tensed fingers. 

It made the man below him give a short laugh. “Fair enough.” He smiled.

When nothing that threatened his life happened, Trevor slowly started to feel more relaxed. Well, whatever his version of relaxed was. He was still on the alert. Now that he looked closely, he noticed the slight difference between, ah… Michaels. Besides the fucking _snake eyes_ that he now changed to normal again, this Michael had lighter skin, which made the bags under his eyes more visible or just naturally darker. Almost like a fucking eyeliner. 

_Goth._

Trevor laughed at his own thoughts and continued to study _the thing_ , while Michael two point zero patiently waited, still on his knees. Trevor realized that the man’s face was on the same level with his dick, which should be awkward, but since neither of them cared, Trevor just smirked and touched his right cheek. The fucker actually leaned into the touch like a fucking cat.

_Feels like a human…_

His hair was also darker and softer. Trevor checked his teeth by holding his lips apart with his thumb. _Normal looking teeth_. He really expected fangs or something. Maybe they grow when he wants to, like a fucking vampire.

“Having fun?” The asshole snorted exactly like real Michael would at Trevor’s exploration. 

“Shut up.” Trevor, to his own surprise, smiled. A ghost of forgotten twinkle from their youth lit up in his chest. 

He gasped when Fakey suddenly raised up to give him a kiss on the lips. Trevor barely had time to pull away.

“Woah there, Superboy. Slow down.” Trevor pressed his hand to the other man’s chest, feeling a cold metal of the necklace under his palm. 

“Sorry. You’re too cute when you smile.” He said while slowly moved to sit next to Trevor on the bed. 

Those words made Trevor… _freeze_. Michael, _the real Michael_ would never say something so affectionate to Trevor Philips. Even when they were young and _friends with benefits_. There were a couple of close calls, but never so sincerely and freely. Not even when Michael Townley was drunk or high. Trevor is not going to lie - _he liked it._

_Smug little shit, eh..._ Well, hard to call him small since this Michael actually had more visible muscles, which were hard to miss since he was dressed in black sweatpants and an undershirt. 

“You didn’t do anything to real Michael, did you?” Trevor asked the question that was running through his head all this time. Even if he didn't want to admit it. 

“No.” He shook his head. ”I haven’t met him. And I’m not planning to eat him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He really didn’t need the image in his head right now. 

“Speaking of... Are you hungry?” Fake Michael asked him with a jokey tone. 

Trevor threw up on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Life is a strange thing, isn't it? Most of the time you can say you've figured it out or at least the canvas The Universe gave you to work with. So you kinda know what to expect. The bad, the good and everything in the middle. 

Well, today Trevor had to throw everything out the metaphorical goddamn window because apparently, you don't know shit about life, existence, and all that crap. Do you expect your _not anymore_ best friend's alter ego to suddenly come into existence? _No?_ Well, Trevor didn't expect that either. Usually, when you dramatically scream your soul out, space and time don't break. 

_Oopsie, I guess._

Putting that aside…If Trevor doesn't spend too much time questioning reality and the meaning of life itself, he's kinda okay with his _new_ best friend. Isn't it like this with human nature? _Whatever, deal with it._ It was in Trevor’s nature for sure. 

"I’m actually for once happy that you didn't eat anything." 

_Almost okay with his new best friend._

Trevor stopped his thoughts about the existential crisis and looked up, realizing that all this time he was staring at one point at the bar counter, on which he was sitting with no longer naked ass. 

"First of all, fuck you. Second, I didn't ask you to clean my vomit." 

"If I didn't, you would've just left it there for eternity."

Trevor flipped him off to which the bastard just smirked and continued to prepare ingredients for breakfast. 

The reason behind Trevor's quick acceptance of his new pal here is because despite those slight differences he acknowledged earlier, this doppelganger still looked like Michael, sounded like Michael, and even did those little body twitches Trevor found charming. But is it weird to call him _Michael_ , since the original existed not that far away? 

"All that's left is for me to throw up and it's almost like our first meeting."

Trevor snorted right into the glass of water he was drinking. "Yeah, minus the old fart following you."

"And the flare gun."

Trevor answered a little slower, being pulled by the memories of their youth. "Yeah..." All of a sudden he felt very annoyed. "Well, actually, it's not. You may have his memories, but you weren't there, so…" Trevor was rocking on the chair, feeling anxious. He wanted to start arguing just to let it out of his system. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He just shrugged, giving Trevor a quick glance. 

_Fucking really?_ I mean, yeah, Trevor didn't say anything that was that provoking, but he expected at least something. 

It made him think though…What did it take to piss him off? Is it like with Michael or harder? The dude looked pretty chill, but you never fucking know what is going on in someone's head. Especially in the head of Michael's other version. Trevor learned it the hard way. 

Can you imagine real Michael's reaction to this handsome fella? He'd probably think it’s one of his crazy fans that went completely bonkers and had plastic surgery. Would he see him as a threat and try to kill him? How would the rest of the family react? Would they actually be happy having a new cooler version of their dad? 

Does _he_ love De Santa's kids, that are in some way his kids too? 

Does he love _Amanda?_

Trevor felt like his anger was spreading like a wildfire. He tried really hard not to think of the conversation he heard at the birthday party while being in the bathroom. _Fuck._

He closed his eyes so tight, it made him see white fireworks.

Just breath, Trevor. Through your nose. Slowly. In and out. _In_ and _out._

After what felt like forever, he opened his eyes. Doppelganger was looking at him with a worried look on his face. Probably for some time now. 

"I'm fine." Trevor quickly muttered, a bit irritated but grateful, that his guest stayed silent. 

_Shit._ He really didn’t want to be affected this much by the little chit-chat Michael and Amanda had… Yes, it only happened yesterday and Trevor had every right to be pissed, but he really wanted to just get over it. _To get over Michael._

Trevor took a deep breath. For the last ten years, he did an excellent job of forgetting him. So, yeah. _Good luck with that._

At least Trevor knew what to do in order to not think about him right now. He just needed to try to constraint his mind on something else or _someone else._ Considering that the very Miracle of Nature was standing in his kitchen in front of him, wearing, for the record, Trevor’s clothes - ironically, it was not difficult to do. 

The obvious questions of _how did you come into existence_ and _how do you feel about it_ is something Trevor is curious about and finds important to know. However, even though physically he felt better after taking some medicine, mentally he was still a pile of shit on fire - not ready to have this conversation. He’ll still have time to ask. Unless, of course, his Prince would turn into a pumpkin at midnight...

Trevor set back and closed his eyes. He began slowly moving his fingers up and down on the empty glass, synchronizing movement with slow breathing. When Trevor opened them again, he focused his mind on something simple. The smell and sound of frying bacon. The way sunlight casted its alluring warmth on Superboy’s body. On his bright attentive eyes. _What is he thinking about? Does he actually want to be here?_

 _Fuck._ His thoughts slipped again. 

Trevor quickly turned to look at the living room. At the moment when he left the apartment, the place was a mess. Just cluttered with stuff. He was still struggling to maintain it clean and organized, but nonetheless doing a much better job than before. Now his apartment was immaculate. Definitely thanks to the clone's night activity. _Did he even sleep?_

"I really like your new place, by the way." Slytherin — he really needed to decide how to call him — noticed Trevor turning and looking around. 

To tell the truth... There was more meaning behind this purchase than just having a new, nice place to live in the city. This new home served as a kind of anchor to what Trevor accomplished. 

Ever since Trevor was a little boy, for as long as he could remember - there was this _noise_. Like he was standing alone in the room, with the red door in front of him. He couldn’t find out what was behind it, because the door was locked and unfortunately, Trevor did not have a key. 

The idea to ignore it sadly was doomed from the start. With time the noise grew stronger and was so overwhelming, Trevor could not bear with it. Filled with rage he started banging on the door, screaming. Doing anything to cover the sound. Thanks to Michael being in his life, some days were better than others… Sometimes he almost didn't hear it. But it was always there...The louder the noise, the louder Trevor would be…

Despite all of this being a figurative analogy to deep psychological scars, the aftermath of those attempts to silence the noise was very real. Banging on the door could easily end up in breaking someone's skull.

One particularly dreadful night, six months ago, Trevor was lying on the red couch, hearing the muted music of his strip club. That night, the hunting noise became unbearable. So he was waiting when the meth would help like it always did. He waited for his eyes to become dark as an empty room with no doors and no windows. Only consuming blissful silence. 

The overdose got him into a coma for one day. 

Luckily, one of the girls found him almost right away and called the ambulance until it was too late. Trevor woke up on a hospital bed. He remembered hearing Lester's voice and him apologizing for something to Trevor. But Trevor did not pay any attention to it. _Oh, how could he?_ When the only thing he could see is Michael's blue eyes and what he saw in them. 

_Pity._

Trevor was a person who didn’t believe in happy endings. After constantly being reminded by life about your worthlessness, you can’t blame a man for losing hope. It’s much easier to just accept the reality and tell yourself - it is your fate and there’s nothing you can do to change it. 

None of the keys will ever fit the lock. 

Until Michael Townley once again intervened with Trevor Philips's compass. How could it be otherwise when their fates are so closely intertwined. Trevor could swear that the first time they met, he felt a red thread wrapped around his neck like a noose. But it always was about two ends, even if Michael didn't want to admit it. _Love at first sight._

Their whole lives they have been so many things to each other. And at that very moment, Trevor got struck with the realization that it might be all he’ll see in Michael’s eyes for the rest of his life… So Trevor got hold of that feeling that washed over him, like an old broken dam, as hard as he could. He just hoped he had enough time to find a way out through the darkness until the light of the candle ran out...

Only two people knew about his new course in life: Ron, because the man would either be excited about the sudden disappearance of his boss or call the cavalry just to find him, and Lester Crest. 

Trevor needed fake documents and Lester was the one who could help him. Silently watching him all those years, the man in the wheelchair felt some kinda obligation for his crazy old friend. Looking closely with clever eyes, was enough for Lester to understand the seriousness of Trevor's intentions. So he agreed to do him a favor one last time. 

The whole trip to the mental health clinic was _terrifying._ His mind felt like a feral animal, trying to escape from a cage. It kept imagining the worst outcomes. Trevor did everything he could to calm his shaking nerves. He explicitly remembers sitting in the cub in headphones, hugging himself, and chanting in his head that everything will be alright.

The first night there, Trevor felt a clammy sense of déjà vu. The feeling of hope, fear, excitement. Everything he experienced during his first days in the air force. Expectedly, Trevor was scared that the new intent might suffer the same fate. That everything would collapse again because of what he is and will always be. That in the end, the evil witch would not lift the curse, and even so would doom him for all eternity. 

But despite his fears and doubts he went through this incredibly hard journey. The journey where he had to face the years of abuse he did to himself and _others..._

After Trevor came back to Los Santos as a new person, he bought this apartment. His therapist advised him to do something meaningful for himself. Something that will be a reminder of his achievements, and not to forget to be proud of himself.

The red door was still locked, but whatever behind it finally went silent... 

Until he accepted the invitation and went to Mr. De Santa's birthday party, just for his heart to be ripped from his chest once again... There at the cliff, Trevor felt so dangerously close to falling into the same dark empty pit. He realised that if not for this miracle, Trevor might have taken the drug out of fear to be drowned in pain. 

So when Trevor turned to look at his new friend to respond and quietly said "Thank you…" it was not just about the apartment.

Feeling much calmer than earlier, Trevor lazily watched Fakey break two eggs into the hot pan. 

“Seriously, Trev. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.” The man looked at Trevor with a genuine smile, actually making him blush. 

Okay, it was nice at first, but now Trevor felt too overwhelmed by the affection he was getting. ‘Yeah...”He tried to cover it with humor, as usual. ”Yesterday's hot shower doesn't count though. It was clearly against my will.” 

Michael's Reflection snorted as he turned the eggs with a spatula. “Yeah, you’ll thank me later for not catching a cold and sleeping in the dirt like a pig.” 

Trevor silently mocked him but then actually tried really hard to remember how he got himself covered in the mud. _Whatever._ It's not like he would’ve died without his help... In the past, he could wake up drunk, high and in his underwear in the middle of nowhere.

Superboy turned off the stove and served eggs and bacon. Trevor looked down at the plate and before he could say _Surprise, I actually don't have an appetite_ , he heard M's voice.

"I can't believe you still had it." M touched the medallion, moving it between his fingers. Looking at it with a warm expression. 

_That damn thing…_

"I don't wanna talk about it," Trevor cut off the conversation including the gift by the roots and stood up, cracking his bones and stretching. "Besides, I need to go and buy a new phone, since you didn't save it."

The man just rolled his eyes, obviously not amused. "Okay, let's go." 

"No. You're staying here. I need time alone. To think." On his way to the exit door, Trevor grabbed his wallet and jacket. “Also, are you going to let those eggs and bacon just go to waste? Wow, Fakey, I can’t believe you don’t care about the environment.”

Trevor waved goodbye with a big grin and disappeared behind the door.

Doppelganger stared at the door for a few seconds before casually tossing the food into the trash.


End file.
